


Food Poisoning

by MaxBetta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxBetta/pseuds/MaxBetta
Summary: Bronn throws Sandor a rooftop bash for his 30th birthday, but Sandor refuses to come





	Food Poisoning

It was Sandor Clegane’s 30th birthday, and his best friend Bronn hand planned the party of a lifetime. Months ago, he had reserved the rooftop of their apartment building for the occasion, which included a swanky pool and lounge area. Sandor wasn’t much of a party guy, he preferred spending time with his small group of close friends, or even a quiet night alone at home in his studio apartment. So it was no surprise that he was useless when it came to making the guest list. Bronn ended up doing everything himself. He invited everyone on their floor, including Sandor’s neighbor directly across the hall, Sansa Stark. Bronn knew that Sandor liked her, because he never spoke about her. Every time he attempted to bring her up, Sandor would either change the subject or end the conversation.

 

That morning, Sandor had opened his apartment door to collect his newspaper when he noticed a small envelope. He picked it up and pulled out the contents. It was a birthday card from Sansa. She had added a handwritten message inside:

 

**If nobody else gives you a birthday kiss,**

**Come find me later.**

 

It was now party time, but Sandor wasn’t on the roof with everyone else. The invitation had said 8pm. It was now almost 9, and the man of honor still wasn’t there. Frustrated, Bronn recruited Sansa to go back downstairs and find out what was going on. She didn’t really want to go through the halls again, dressed in a bikini and a pair of denim cutoff shorts, but she reluctantly agreed.

 

Sansa knocked quietly on Sandor’s door.

 

“Sandor, are you ready? Everyone’s waiting upstairs.” She waited a few moments, there was no response. “Sandor, are you okay?”

 

“It’s unlocked, you can come in.”

 

She opened the door to let herself in and quickly shut it behind her. She saw Sandor, sitting on the end of his unmade bed, hands resting on his thighs, head down. He was wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts over his swim trunks. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, something Sansa noticed immediately, her eyes darting to the expanse of dark hair that covered him from his neck all the way down to his waist.

 

“Everyone’s waiting, we can’t have your party without you.”

 

He huffed. “Why does he do this? Every year Bronn tries to throw me a big party, and I don’t want it. Parties are his thing, not mine.”

 

“You’re his best friend, he just wants you to have a good time.”

 

Head still down, he started fidgeting with his hands. “I got the card.”

 

“Glad to hear the paper boy didn’t steal it.”

 

He chuckled. She always did know how to cheer him up.

 

“I think I’d like that kiss.”

 

Sansa was surprised by his request. “How do you know you won’t meet some hot chick at the party and makeout in the dark like teenagers?”

 

Her words made him wince. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do it.”

 

She approached him cautiously. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She was right in front of him now. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he looked up for the first time since she had arrived. “If I give you your kiss, will you go with me to the party after?”

 

He considered it for a moment, then nodded.

 

“Okay then. It’s a deal.”

 

Her hands still on his shoulders, she stepped closer so that she was now standing between his legs. She brought her face down toward his, tilting her head to the right, their noses brushing. Their lips met politely at first, but something changed between them, and all at once, she wanted more. Their mouths danced in sync with one another, with the occasional mingling of tongues. Her insides were aflame. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling them even closer together. He grabbed her buttocks with his hands and lifted her gently onto his lap. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing herself closer, connecting the two of them at the groin.

 

She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, gave a gentle nibble, and released it, spreading kisses to his chin and along his jawline. They continued their making out, which, to her, felt more like they were making love with their mouths. She could feel the swell of his erection pressing up against her where their bodies met. Her breaths were becoming quick and shallow, when she noticed that he had stopped moving his mouth. She opened her eyes to see that his were still closed, and one corner of his mouth was raised. He finally looked at her with heavy lidded eyes. Their faces were only an inch apart, they both were breathing heavily

 

“Whoa,” was all he said. Sansa nodded, and they continued admiring one another. Sansa could feel the nub above her entrance, now swollen and hard, was aching for the touch of his hand, or his mouth, or whatever he would be willing to do for her.

 

She noticed him eyeing her breasts hungrily, her erect nipples straining against the thin fabric. She gave him a subtle nod, encouraging him to go on. He grasped the edge of one triangle, gently pushing the fabric aside to expose her breast. He gave the dusty apricot nipple a playful lick, followed by an open mouth kiss, and then sucked it into his mouth, drawing it between his teeth and biting gently, then soothing it with a swirl of his tongue.

 

Sansa shifted her hips in response, creating delicious friction for both of them.

 

What was happening? She never would have expected to get this worked up, not with him. They had always been friends who occasionally flirted, nothing more.  He watered her plants when she was out of town. They watched a movie on her couch once, but he never made a move, just sat with his arms crossed the whole time. She never would have fathomed she could be this turned on, hungry for his touch, his mouth. She wanted his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere. The impulse in her was so strong, she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out her next thought.

 

“I don’t want to go to the party.”

 

Sandor grinned. Placing his hands on her back and pulling her closer, he nipped her chin, sucked hard on the fragile skin of her neck, and then reached into one of his pockets, pulling out his phone.

 

Bronn was waiting impatiently on the rooftop, chilled bottle of champagne in hand, when he felt his pocket vibrate. Pulling out his phone, he saw there was a text from Sandor. It read:

 

**Violently ill, food poisoning. Really bad. Can’t make it.**

 

_That fucker. He thinks he’s not going to come to his own birthday party?_

 

“He’s going to come, if I have to drag him here myself.” Bronn plunged the bottle of champagne back into the ice bucket, flung open the rooftop door that led to the stairwell, and marched down toward Sandor’s place.

 

He was just outside the door, about to pound on it angrily with both of his fists, when he heard a deep, throaty grunting sound. It was happening over and over, occasionally accompanied by a high pitched whimpering. Clearly, Sandor hadn’t been faking. The poor guy was miserable and vomiting his guts out, and on his birthday of all days. It just wasn’t fair.

 

Bronn shrugged, then started back down the hallway toward the stairwell. “Maybe next year,” he muttered to himself.


End file.
